His Shining Star
by Elyon Kultings
Summary: A runner-up of America's Got Talent moves to New York to begin the official molding of her career. Is there more to her than the stage portrays? Max/OC On hiatus.
1. Jet Lag with a Side of Hunger

**AN~ WOO! This is my first WOWP fic! Hope you guys enjoy it! Oh, and just to let you know I'll be alternating between the P.O.V.s of Maira and Max. Let me know if you will find this tiring. I dont want to annoy anyone. :P**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Wizards of Waverly Place or America's Got Talent. Just saying. :/**

**Yours Truly,**

_Elyon_

* * *

_Maira_

Ugh, I would _kill_ for a Red Bull right now. I have an unnerving migraine and my eyelids feel as if they're being weighed down with solid gold. But I don't dare shut an eyelid. I promised myself that I'd keep awake all through this morning, since of course I hadn't seen a quarter as many days as I had nights. It was queer having the unyielding courage to sing in front of thousands but a bitter stage fright to perform in front of…maybe a hundred. I guess it's because I'm going solo with Malachi, not roaming with a herd of talented people, four celebrities, and a camera crew. Sometimes I miss the sky…just slightly, not enough to be homesick or anything...

A firm hand rattles my shoulder. "We're here Maira, hun."

I jerk myself awake and groan as I glance out the window. The sun appears to have been up for at least an hour. Not only had I fallen asleep but I missed the beauty of my first sunrise in New York!

"Something wrong?" Mal asks.

I shake my head. At least Malachi was there for me. Even when he was first assigned as my manager/guardian he treated me as if I were of his own blood. Usually in these kinds of situations that takes a little while. To settle down, set boundaries, and establish a parent-child relationship. I knew in an instant he was different. He is down-to-earth, has a stunning fashion sense; yet masculine and protective all at once. He isn't gay per say, just a little more in touch with the girl in him.

Over the loudspeaker the pilot is heard: "Buckle up. We will now be making our descent in New York City."

Everyone fastens their seatbelts, which for some reason reminds me of the fact that Malachi and I had gotten first-class seats. I now take this as the moment to shove my face into the window and stare out at the formal and informal buildings alike with cars dancing around the roads and all the graffiti standing out as clear as day. A minute later the plane bumps once on the runway then lands; gliding smoothly 300 more feet before halting. The walkway is mildly crowded as Mal and I make a beeline for the door. A single camera shot is taken of me as I make my way down the stairs. Mal gives a minuscule growl. While meandering through a small throng in front of the baggage claim Mal stands in front of me; but no one is hostile or freaking out due to my presence. But I _do _notice a few grins and wide-eyes. I'm almost thankful I have no stalkers as far as I'm aware. Mal fishes out our bags and I take my share to carry from him. Now laden with suitcases we inch towards the door(me so more than him) through which I can already see a limp with our driver holding up a sign with my name written in sharpie. When we're out the door, the driver relieves me of my luggage and crams it into the trunk. Mal manages to do this himself. I hop into the seat behind the driver and Mal rides shotgun. As out driver starts up the engine with a crank of the ignition and heads toward the flat Mal had bought a little over a year ago, my previously ignored hunger finds me out. I hadn't eaten since lunch the day before.

"Hey Mal?" I ask.

"Uh huh?"

"Can you get me a spare key so I can walk over someplace to eat? I'm starving."

"You mean by yourself?"

"Yeah. I mean this may be New York, but I could even tell by the people at the airport; there are no evident crazies…so far." (I squeeze in the last part under my breath.)

"…I guess, but call me if _anything_ goes wrong."

"You got it." I assure him.

He continues. "There's an odd little sandwich shop on Waverly Place just two blocks from the apartment which I discovered a year ago while first looking at the flat. Everything's pretty decent there."

Seconds later we're pulling up to the apartment building and Mal get out all our bags. After trudging up the stairs, Mal lifts of the board of the final stair and hands me the spare key. I'm slightly bewildered that no one had stolen it.

"I'll take your things to your room," he tells me. "Be back by noon alright?"

I nod with all the sincerity I can muster.

I then slip the key into my jean pocket along with my wallet and I'm off! It seems every New York block was mundane. The same large throngs of bustling people, the same types of stores, the same homeless people hangout on every corner. All this appears to be so until I arrive at Waverly Place. It seems more…lively. With the oddest names: The Late Night Bite, Clown Supplies, Suburban Outfitters, and finally the Waverly Substation. The colors of the Place aren't mundane or too whimsical, they all just clicked. I smile cheerily as I enter. The individual tables and chairs are metallic with a simple set of condiments. To the left appears to be a subway car built into the wall which explains the "substation" piece. When I'm done being insane and finish absorbing the surroundings I come to realize that I'm the first customer of the morning and that a guy my age-who is running the register-had been observing me as I'd sauntered through the restaurant. He's cute too. With semi-wavy hair, exquisite chocolate eyes, and a winning smile. I silently curse myself for acting like such an idiot. There's something else though. I feel as if I know this person. That "that's-an-old-friend-I-haven't-seen-in-forever" feeling swept through me. Gah! Damn the partial amnesia I acquired while passing through the atmosphere! As our eyes meet it occurs to me that we're both wearing the same familiarized yet unsure expression.

Our shared uncertainty is highlighted as he asks: "Um, Have we met before?"

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**Another AN~ So tell me how I did why don'tcha! :D I'm thinking about changing the title of the story. Any suggestions? Also, if there was any confusion..._just let my story build _****_geez_! :P ****I shall most likely upload the second chapter this weekend if my schedule permits. Thanks for reading! **


	2. Friendly Chatter with a Side of Alex

**An epic thank you to the two who reviewed so far and those who added this story to their favorites! I have decided that Max is not to have an overdose of airhead in his P.O.V. (Basically I don't want to be all that limited just because his character is "dumb".)Of course I tried my best to match up his dialogue and actions to the way WOWP portrays him. Wow, I'm not 100% sure if I made the correct point. Heh. Heh. Whateva. *sigh*And, I'm just saying; it felt **_**weird**_** writing from Max's P.O.V. considering the fact that I'm a girl. *shivers* Well it **_**is**_** just a story. :P**

**Yours Truly,**

_Elyon_

**P.S. So I'm assuming you guys are ok with the title? Eh? **

* * *

_Max_

I don't know just how beautiful she is until I gaze into her glittery brown (with a ring of hazel) eyes. Her hair is a brilliant shade of copper and her porcelain skin and pinkish lips give off a faint shimmer. I feel as if I've known her for awhile even though I don't recall seeing her in my life before. Maybe I'm confusing her with someone else…?

I can't help but ask: "Have we met before?"

Uncertain, she replies, "Maybe. Or maybe you've just seen me on _America's Got Talent_."

"I don't watch it. My brother and sister are crazy about it though. They act like animals when it's on. This season Alex is obsessed with Maira and Justin's in love with Marilyn Marx."

She looks slightly disgusted at the mention of Marilyn, but she shrugs it off and smiles. "Well _I'm_ Maira actually; I won second place with the _epic_ power of singing."

"I'm Max Russo."

'That wasn't your cue to tell her your name Max!' I think; but I know this is mostly Conscience talking…or maybe it's _just_ him scolding me. 'Put your head on straight...Is it…ever? Well you are the kind of guy who freezes frogs into ice cubes, plants money trees, and crams your shoes with dirt…I wonder if there's a Head-Straightener spell…'

Maira is not the slightest bit phased.

"Well nice to meet you," she says. "If I haven't met you before…"

After a moment she shakes her head. "I'm sorry; this isn't what I came for. I'd like a ham and cheese sub on Italian bread, and a Cup of Joe with lots of sugar please."

Even at the speedy rate she is explaining her order, I scribble it all down. Wait…Cup of Joe…that's coffee…dur! Maira hands me a five dollar bill which I let drift into the register drawer.

"Coming right up!" I exclaim.

I scurry to the kitchen to begin the process of making her sandwich and pouring her coffee. Maira plops down at the table closest to the register…almost to my dismay.

'Why not the stools?' I think.

There's a shuffling of feet on the stairs and I attempt to rack my brain as to who would be up this early on a Sunday. It could be anyone considering normally _nothing_ wakes us Russos on a weekend. (Unless it's their shift.) Justin? Harper? Mom? Dad? Al-

"_Max_! The coffee maker broke up here and I want my Cup o' Joe!"

Alex.

I sigh. I sort of hoped I'd have this morning _alone_. "I put a pot on already Alex!"

"Good."

Ignoring my sister's previous flippantness Maira's face brightens at the sound of her fan's name. If she actually _knew_ Alex… Seconds later down comes my sister in a zombie-like fashion; still in her pajamas and possessed with a bad case of bed-head. How _professional_ during business hours….whoa that was Justin talking. I've had far too many of those moments this week. In the middle of an exasperated yawn the sluggard's eyes look as if they're about to bulge right out of her head.

"Maira? ! ? What are you doing _here_? In _New York_? And Max _why_ didn't you tell me _Maira_ was here?"

I answer first while simultaneously putting the finishing touches on Maira's order. "I didn't feel like it."

In an instant Alex straightens up. "I've taught you well…Maybe _too_ well."

After a double-take Maira responds to Alex: "I just moved here with my foster father, Malachi. My producer demands it if I want to be an official artist."

Almost pleased with my culinary masterpiece, I nonchalantly half-skip to Maira's table and place on it her sandwich and mug of coffee. She immediately digs in. I trudge back to the kitchen to pour Alex her coffee. Alex takes a seat across from Maira. "What school are you enrolled in here in New York?"

The _only _reason Alex wants to know that is because if Maira goes to Tribeca and walks in with Alex, she'll get an obvious popularity boost…or maybe in her mind. There will also be benefits for me if Maira goes to our school too of course… The moment while await her answer hung by a thread as thin as a very short hair. Then it snapped.

"Tribeca Preparatory I believe."

I think my head just turned into a balloon and is floating freely without the rest of my body. _Weirdness…_

Alex beams. "Oh my gosh! Justin, Max, Harper, and I all go there! Could you…hand out with my best friend Harper and I...Not _just_ because you're famous or anything…"

'Quit filling the girl's mind with B.S.!' I scream mentally.

Maira half-heartedly nods and finally takes a breath from her meal. "Well I'm not _that_ famous yet. I didn't even win first place on A.G.T. I suppose everyone in New York will be guaranteed to at least be aware of my existence after I perform in Central Park-"

"When is it? ? ?" Alex interrupts.

At this point I go beyond eavesdropping from a distance and come back with Alex's coffee and send her a glare says: "Would you mind not hogging her?"

In return Alex sticks out her tongue and wears a look of sheer triumph which screeches: "Yes, yes I would as a matter of fact."

"Well I'll be there." Alex vows with a smile.

"Not legally," I mutter under my breath.

Maira produces a cell phone from her jean pocket, flips it open, and jumps. "Sorry, I really have to go. See you at school tomorrow Max…and Alex."

She then rushes out the door.

It's now far more fact than fiction that I like her because I have this nauseating sensation that is like someone has rolled up my guts in a gym mat as she exits. Alex notices I won't take my gaze from the door.

"I'm going to stand by the cash register now," I state idly and do so.

But Alex isn't quite through yet.

"Max," Alex begins as she put a hand on my shoulder. "She's a celebrity. There has to be a good hundred or so guys going googly-eyed over her too."

Having been found out at the start there was no use in trying to conceal it, but I had to prove my point. "But…there's something….I _know_ her."

"Of _course_ you do Max," Alex says sarcastically as she withdraws her hand.

She manages to clamber up the stairs as a few customers start coming in. I sigh. Granted I have odd practices, average grades, and a limited vocabulary but that doesn't mean I'm dumb. Maybe confused but _not_ dumb. Nearly forgetting it was still my shift and attempting to picture how school would go tomorrow results in being yelled at by some cranky New Yorkers. I wonder exactly _how _I met Maira previously…

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**So if you believe that someone is OOC to the breakage point or if there is anything else that needs to be revised I beseech you to tell me. I want to make this story as readable and awesome as possible. Did you get what I was saying about Max? Oh, and just a quick heads-up, I most likely won't be able to update until Thursday if or Monday. Reviews are greatly appreciated as always! **

_Elyon_

"**I've never made a mistake in my life. I thought I did once but I was wrong." I don't know who said that but it's hysterical ain't it? Heh. Heh. :P Until next time my readers!**


	3. Maira's First Day, Along with an Offer

**Well I did it! Here's Chapter Three! :D As far as the **_**next**_** chapter goes…maybe it'll be up either by Sunday or Monday. Come to think of it I still need to **_**write **_**Chapter Four. -.- Oh well, I'll try and aim for those days. I hope you guys savor this chapter in the mean time.**

**Yours Truly,**

_Elyon_

**P.S. I don't know for sure, but do the Russos ride the bus or walk to school? Hmmmm. Grrr, if they walk I'll have to rewrite some of this chapter! :/**

* * *

_Maira_

I've always despised the first day being at a new school, but now that I've been on a T.V. show, there is a far more ominous pressure on my forehead.

When I board the bus, quite a few students squeal: "Maira! I voted for you! Sit next to _me_!"

There is some dispute among them, and just to regain my sliver of peace of mind I sit near the back in a vacant seat. This results in some pouting in the front and middle of bus, but those closest to me are mildly content. The Russos are picked up right after me; they're the last ones. A guy who appears to be a couple years older than me with messy black hair, a blue and white plaid shirt, jeans, and a nerdy backpack gives me a half-hearted scowl and plops down next to another guy with shaggy brown hair.

'That had to have been Justin, Marilyn's little admirer,' I think, recalling Max's explanation of his siblings and Alex's list of names.

How I remember these things clearly is simply beyond me. Justin is followed by Alex and Harper (I believe) who's wearing a rather odd dark purple dress with multi-colored sharpies on the sleeves and trims with red mini sharpies for earrings. Their faces light up when they see me and proceed to stuff themselves onto the seat, nearly causing my face connect with the window. After shaking it off I finally spot Max. I wave, but he simply half-smiles and his cheeks are suddenly touched with red. He then takes a seat at the front of the bus. Justin's apparent hawk-eye catches Max's slight hesitation.

Something drives him to glare back at me wear an expression that says: "_Really_?"

"So wazzup?" Alex greets.

"Nothin'," I reply subtly.

"So Maira," comes Harper's voice. "You're going to hang out with us today right?"

"Yup," I say.

"Love the sharpie dress by the way," I comment. "For some reason I _love_ the smell of them."

"Oh thanks," Harper says, flattered. "I like their smell too; that's why I _had_ to make a dress out of them. My mom tells me you lose brain cells when you smell them but that's just an old wives tale. I designed one out of scented markers once too."

I nod approvingly.

This gal brought exotic fashion to a whole level. The best I'd done was put my hair into a fancy bun and spray paint it red so that it looked like a blooming rose…The bus jerks forward, barely giving me a second to catch myself. It seems everyone maintained stabilization save for one guy at the front across front Max. Poor dude fell flat on his face. Alex starts busting up which sets off a chain-reaction of fits of laughter. I even muffle a minuscule chuckle.

"We have arrived," the bus driver mutters monotonously.

Everyone rises and we all kill each other practically as we find our way out the door. The school building itself is typical. A dark blue banner hangs above the door with a cartoon turkey reading in white font: 'Go Tribeca Turkeys!'

'I honestly prefer being an eagle,' I comment inwardly, thinking of my old school in L.A.

As Alex, Harper, and I saunter through the doors and into the hallway. A man who appears to be the principal approaches us. Alex seems slightly bewildered, as if she'd forgotten all the introducing I'd have to be through today.

"See ya later," Alex mouths.

'Alright ditch me then,' I think with a roll of my eyes.

The principal extends a hand which I shake.

"Ah, Maira, welcome to Tribeca Prep; I'm the principal, Mr. Laritate."

"Nice to meet you."

As he hands me my class schedule and locker combination his brow furrows. "Although you appear polite…I see you've befriended Ms. Alex Russo, the biggest troublemaker of the school. I suggest you try and _not _participate in her unlawful acts. Also I'll have you know we pull tight reigns at the ol' ranch..."

Even Mr. Laritate's slight usage of cowboy lingo left me dazed so I only caught a few things following that.

"…don't rule the school…senior history and chemistry classes…lasso one to give you a quick look around…"

A breath of air later Justin is standing around with us.

"Why hello Mr. Marx," I joke with a piano-grin.

Justin rolls his eyes.

"See you two on the prairie," Mr. Laritate states as he rushes off.

"How do you get used to that?" I inquire, hoping to break the ice.

"You don't," he replies simply.

I nod.

"You know, Alex can probably show me the necessary ropes," I begin. "But just out of curiosity, why were you scowling at me on the bus?"

Of course, I have a pretty sophisticated idea; I just want to hear how he puts it.

"_Well_ by that first comment you understand that I like Marilyn Marx-Sweet Marilyn Marx- and she's your _archenemy _correct?"

I nod. "And of course she makes it out to be that I'm always poking and prodding her and she just a _big helpless baby_." (I make a child-like whiny voice while saying the emphasized words.)

"Well you _are _a meanie," Justin retorts.

Very quickly I am _done_ with this little game of back-and-forth. It occurs to me that he would never accept the real story of A.G.T. season six if I drilled it into his brain.

"Dammit! If you want to boo-hoo, there's the corner! And just to give you a heads up, I'm in two of your classes which _thankfully_ isn't right now! !"

I pray silently my core hadn't reacted to my small outburst.

'Well he wouldn't be able to figure it out anyway,' I assure myself.

But for a second I have my doubts. Justin grows frighteningly calm after I finish shouting at him. I spin around and speed walk towards my first class. But one of these Russos ever seems to finish a battle.

"Where are you from originally _anyways_?" Justin interrogates.

I face him and send my keenest pair of metaphorical daggers flying at him head-on. "The sky."

His eyes bulge as if he just found me out to be a reincarnation of Hannibal Lecter and he was my next victim. I proceed to mask my unintentional sincerity with a chuckle.

I backpedal and change my answer. "Uptown L.A."

Well hey; I was only half-lying!

He seems only a quarter convinced.

I then go on with marching to class. I gulp as I open the door; actually forgetting that I was new…and officially late. Worry begins to gnaw at me.

'Well,' I think. 'If Justin finds out; I brought this upon myself. Dammit, _why _do I have to be so temperamental?'

Everyone in Algebra stares at me as I enter. I now hate this feeling twenty times more than I originally did. I take a surreptitious glance at the whiteboard just for kicks. 'Mrs. Manson' is scrunched in the top right corner. It wasn't hard to remember. I notice immediately that she appears to be at least fifty. She rises. "Good morning Maira, please, please, have a seat."

I guess there was almost no point in introductions in my case.

As my eyes shift from row to row I see Max. I give a mini-wave. We lock eyes for a lingering second. I decide upon the seat closest to the door, which in actuality was one of the only vacant seats. As I finally take my seat there is a sort wave of applause.

'Ooook then…'

Mrs. Manson sends out individual glares. She then continues her lecture which is on something that I'd learn a good two months ago back in L.A. I remember it fairly clearly so I do a follow-up on my jet-lag recovery. He he. …

…

For the second time in two days I'm awoken by being shaken.

"C'mon Maira," Max practically tries to coax me from my sleep.

I hastily pull myself together, snatch up my bag, and rise from my seat, nearly collapsing in the process. Mental note: No more naps in class _missy_!

"Thanks Max," I breathe.

We walk out together toward the lockers. In an instant I find that Max's friends have dispersed.

'Off to separate classes,' I figure.

I approach my locker and spin the combination. Max is still there…his locker in fact only three down from mine!

In the middle of switching textbooks I crack the otherwise silence in half. "Thanks again for waking me up in time to leave Max."

"Well," Max says. "I've had bad experiences with falling asleep in that class and it would've been screwed up for me to leave you there."

Out of nowhere the few snippets of dialogue we share convert into something I figured wouldn't happen for at least another month. Still, there was that cracked memory of somehow _really_ knowing Max before…maybe it was the same with him and he was just playing it off like there was no second time we met in his family's restaurant and we've known each for -what seemed like-forever and a day.

"And..wellyeah…" Max fumbles. "Sorry I've only done this once before…."

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks upward at the ceiling for a few seconds.

'Yes…?' I ask mentally and I smile with an aura of eagerness.

"I know…as far as we know…we've only known each other for like…two days…but…would you like to…walk somewhere after school?"

Um….was he asking me out?

"Well sure, 'cause I walk everywhere," I say with a smirk that is barricading a slight laugh. The words come out almost as if I'm serious though.

'I'm pretty sure that was 'Yes' in Maximillian. Hey, I'm bilingual!'

He looks sort of…Maxish; wearing one of those expressions that are impossible to decipher.

"Well, I'm off to do something insane before my next class," he sighs with a tone that was pretty close to an 'I'm-all-that-now' attitude.

'What do you know?' I think, beaming. 'It's my first day and I already got myself a date!'

I then groan as I remember the two classes where I'd have to deal with deal with Justin…

* * *

Lo and behold, Justin and I _do_ have common ground. We're both impossibly smart. (Well obviously only history and chemistry for me as far as academics go.) At lunch I met up with Alex and Harper again. During break Alex assisted me in putting up flyers for my concert all over the school. Well, more like took over the entire project….. It's now at the closing of the school day and Alex and Harper figure I'm sitting with them on the bus again to chat about pranks (Alex), fresh clothing designs (Harper), and also about my concert. (Both.) Then in Justin's mind catches up figuring I'm going to sit with him and discuss cold fusion. Then along comes Max. He is attempting to stroll in a formal fashion with his chin his head held high but id failing miserably. He links arms with me, as if his siblings and sister's best friend weren't there. The trio is in a typhoon of shock. I don't even need to swivel my head around to confirm this. All I know is that I'm on a date with Max Russo, though I'm slightly confused as to where exactly we were heading. Oh well. Heh. Max and Maira. That sounds….appealing to the ears….

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**Reviews are most greatly appreciated! :D (Anonymous ones are excepted as well.)**


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